It's Raining Stair Rods
by Batsutousai
Summary: There isn't a single thing that can make Roy go out into the pouring rain. Except, perhaps, Edward Elric.


**Title:** _It's Raining Stair Rods_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist_ 2003 verse  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Teen  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, post-canon, Ed catches a cold, Roy is a surprisingly good nursemaid, fluff  
 **Summary:** There isn't a single thing that can make Roy go out into the pouring rain. Except, perhaps, Edward Elric.

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 **A/N:** For RoyEd Week on tumblr. Today's prompts included such gems as _Umbrella_ , _"Obviously I don't find this as funny as you do"_ , and _Feverish_.  
It's more the _lack_ of the first that's involved, and the second is never actually directly stated in the fic, but it is implied. A lot. XD So I left them on the list of prompts anyway.

So, I was originally envisioning Brotherhood, because that's my default series, but then the boys decided this was actually '03 verse. Not that it's that big a deal, only a couple minor differences that mattered, but just so people know?

This was supposed to be quick and a bit funny. And then it grew a mind of its own and fluff started growing and I 100% blame yodepalma, who I'm certain is happy to take it. XP

Not edited. *shrugs* I'll look it over after the summer's fic-writing insanity has died off to a more manageable level.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

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Roy had given up on work almost twenty minutes ago, choosing, instead, to turn and stare out his window at the downpour outside. He'd need to walk home in that, soon, and he'd left his umbrella at home that morning, because it had been a lovely day.

' _Had_ ' being the operative word.

He sighed for the seventh or eighth time since the rain had started, again considering just staying late and hoping it would quit before he resorted to napping on one of his couches. (Not that he'd ever done that before, or anything.)

There was a slam from the outer office, then Havoc said, "You look like a drowned rat," in that tone that meant he was afraid he'd be dead if he laughed, but he really, _really_ wanted to.

"Shut the fuck up before I remember I can order you around," Edward snarled back, and at least two of the others laughed.

Roy straightened, surprised. He hadn't expected Fullmetal to return from his trip down south for another week. That he was back early could be good news, or it could be bad; it had got a lot harder to know for certain, now Edward had grown up enough not to fly off the handle at the vaguest allusion to his height. (Too, the lack of both his signature red coat and the too-obvious armour accompanying him everywhere made it a lot harder for Roy's intelligence network to keep tabs on the young man. Which he was beginning to suspect Edward knew, and was taking pains to be as unobtrusive as possible, just to leave Roy off-balance. The brat.)

The door to Roy's office slammed open and he turned, unreadable haughty smirk firmly in place.

And then he got a good look at Edward and couldn't stop a snort, because the young man looked like he'd just gone swimming with his clothing on, soaked all the way through. In fact, Roy was fairly certain a miniature lake was starting to form under his feet.

That said, he was still somehow as attractive as ever, and Roy really hoped Edward didn't notice that he couldn't quite keep from staring at a droplet of water as it trailed down the side of his face and throat to vanish under the low collar of his black vest. Which was clearly just as soaked as the rest of him, if the way it was clinging to his torso – at least, what Roy could see of it through Edward's open coat – was any indication.

"Yeah, fuckin' _laugh it up_ , you bastard," Edward snarled, crossing his arms over his chest with a loud squelching noise, and apparently noticing nothing at all about Roy's preoccupation with water droplets.

(Out in the main office, someone failed at muffling a snicker, and there was the sound of change clinking together; Roy was fairly certain he didn't want to know what the bet had been, if only for the sake of his own pride.)

Roy coughed and looked down at the puddle forming at Edward's feet, just for something to look at; couldn't resist the opportunity to comment, "I don't believe I've ever heard of water damage being caused by a single person before. Let alone someone so–"

"I will wring out my fuckin' coat over your head if you don't shut the fuck up, Mustang," Edward informed him, just matter-of-factly enough that Roy had a feeling he actually _would_.

Roy coughed again and politely folded his hands together against the top of his desk, forcing himself to meet and focus on the glaring gold eyes. Not that he couldn't compose poetry to those eyes if given half the chance, but they were far less dangerous than staring at pretty much any other part of Edward. "You're back sooner than expected."

Edward eyed him for a moment, still glaring a bit, before he put on a smile that warned of a _massive_ pile of paperwork in Roy's future, and said, "Yeah, got sick of playing snoop and just broke the building."

The problem with this adult Edward, which hadn't been true of him as a teenager, was that Roy couldn't actually tell if he was being serious or not, when he reported his misdeeds. That said, he'd have heard about such a significant amount of damage to any of the buildings in the area that the group Edward had been sent to watch were in, so he felt relatively secure in flatly replying, "The truth, Fullmetal, if you're capable of such."

Edward made a show of rolling his eyes – at least _some_ things hadn't changed – and moved like he was about to toss himself onto one of Roy's couches before stopping and grimacing. "Dammit," he muttered, quietly enough Roy doubted he was meant to have heard. Then he turned back to Roy with an absolutely _murderous_ glare, as though _he_ was the cause between Edward deciding not to sit and leave water spots all over the leather – Roy appreciated his restraint, and would accept that blame for the sake of his couches. "Can it just fucking wait until I bring in the written report tomorrow?"

Roy sighed, resigned to the fact that Edward _never_ turned in his report the first day he got back into town from a mission, rarely even bothered to come by Command, most of the time. "Tomorrow's fine," he allowed, "as long as it _is_ tomorrow."

"Oh, come on. I forgot _once_!" Edward complained, sounding so very much like the pouting teenager he no longer was.

"You have a _history_ of forgetting," Roy returned, because the young man might have only forgot to turn in his report the day after he'd got back into town once _since he'd returned to the military_ , but he'd used to have to be bribed into turning in reports as a kid. And, more often than not, what he'd turned in had very clearly been written by Alphonse.

Edward shot him a flat look, apparently deciding that didn't deserve a more vocal response, then his eyes turned toward the clock on the wall and he murmured, sounding a bit surprised, "It's that late?"

Roy looked over himself, frowned to find it was five minutes until he could go home, then turned his chair to look out at the sheet of water beyond the protection of his windows.

Edward snorted. "It's just _water_ , Mustang. Fuck's sake. I survived it, didn't I?"

"You are _hardly_ a fair standard for survivability," Roy couldn't stop himself from retorting.

"Bullshit," Edward returned, and his boots squelched as he moved. "I'm neither more nor less durable than you are, you _moron_." Roy's chair jerked, and he twisted his head up and around to frown at where Edward had stopped next to the back of his chair. "C'mon. I'll walk you most of the way, protect you from the bad, scary water."

"Utterly unnecessary, Fullmetal, I assure you," Roy informed him stiffly, because he still intended to just wait the storm out in his office.

Edward's smile was sharp in a way that probably should have had Roy running for his life, but instead sent a warm thrill of _entirely inappropriate_ heat straight to his cock. "Uh-huh," he said, while Roy attempted to casually rest his hands in his lap to hide any potential bulges (he was _thirty-six years old_ , not some randy _teenager_!). "You know, there's no shame in admitting you're afraid of a little water–"

"How is _that_ a 'little'?" Roy demanded, motioning toward the window and shooting Edward an incredulous look.

Edward's smile dimmed a bit, edged in memories Roy couldn't begin to guess at, for he had no reference for the other world Edward had spent four years in. "It just is," he said quietly.

Quiet Edward Elric was one of the most unnatural things he could imagine, and Roy doubted he'd ever get used to it, didn't _want_ to get used to it. So, instead of letting the silence grow any heavier, he sighed and levered himself out of his chair. "Admit it, Fullmetal, you just want to see what drowned major general looks like."

Edward's smile was back, and every bit as sharp as the blade he liked to turn his arm into. "If that's all I wanted, I'd just set off the building sprinkler system," he pointed out far too cheerfully.

Roy cast a distrustful look up at the little metal spigot in the ceiling of his office. "The major would have your head for ruining so much paperwork." Because, as fond as Riza had always been of the Elric brothers, Roy doubted she'd forgive either of them for that sort of prank, and Roy allowed himself a moment to be glad that the sprinkler system hadn't been developed until after Edward's disappearance.

"Who says she'd ever find out it was me?" Edward said way too cheerfully. "I'm not the pyromaniac here."

Roy shot him a glare, because Edward _would_ find a way to pin it on him, and Riza would believe it.

Threats of gunshots aside, Edward looked far more himself. Still more than a little soaked, but his eyes were bright with amusement, and there was nothing quiet about the way he teased, "Coming, old man?" with laughter in his voice.

"If I'm so old, what are you doing dragging me out into a downpour, for?" Roy muttered.

Edward, of course, laughed at him.

Roy collected his things, traded good nights with the rest of his team, and followed Edward down to the front doors of the building. There, he paused to ensure his coat was as closed as it was going to get, tried not to look at Edward's still open coat – he didn't expect it would do him much good, as soaked as he still looked – and then followed the young man out into the downpour.

His hair was soaked through and drooping in his face within three steps, his eyepatch felt uncomfortably waterlogged against his cheek within eight steps, and he could feel the rain seeping through the wool of his uniform jacket before they made the street.

"This," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the falling water, "is _ridiculous_!"

Edward turned and flashed him a wide grin, then made a show of throwing his arms out to the side – travelling suitcase flinging wildly and barely missing two miserable-looking soldiers walking a little too close to the crazy blond – and spinning a bit, the ends of his opened coat swinging out around him. "Live a little, Mustang!" he called back.

Roy had _done_ his living, thanks. Now he just wanted to get home, change into something dry, and huddle in front of his fireplace until he started to fall asleep. "I'm sending you somewhere _miserable_ for your next assignment," Roy threatened, mostly just to hide how he was staring at Edward again; it really wasn't fair that the man could look good even in pouring rain.

Edward's grin just seemed to widen and he made a point of jumping in a puddle. Someone let out a disgruntled noise, but Roy couldn't quite stop a smile, helplessly entertained to watch his subordinate – a young man whose name was spoken with reverence in plenty of cities, or fear by plenty of criminals – act like a carefree child.

And then Edward shot him a knowing smirk, and Roy knew he'd been caught. "Hate the rain, eh, General Bastard?" he teased.

Roy made a show of smirking right back, and Edward's eyes narrowed. "I'm just imagining what your _fans_ would say if they could see you right now."

Edward scoffed and kicked at a small puddle, either ignoring or just unaware of the glare others shot him for it. "With any luck, they'd fuck off. _Shit_ , it's fucking ridiculous. I mean, what the fuck _am_ I? Some sort of fuckin' radio star?"

"You're the People's Alchemist."

"Bull-fucking-shit."

"Such a delightful mental image, thank you," Roy interrupted before Edward could start on the familiar rant again.

Edward paused mid-kick for a beat, then snorted and continued the step without kicking up another puddle. "Idiot," he muttered, sounding weirdly _fond_.

Roy wanted to comment on Edward's health, but he didn't really want to tempt his subordinate to retaliate by dumping him in a puddle – he didn't, for one second, doubt that Edward _would_. So he chose to catch Edward's elbow in silence, instead, to ensure he didn't miss the turn off the main street; just because Edward had offered to walk his home, didn't mean he actually knew where Roy lived.

Edward made a show of shaking him off once they were around the corner, but didn't snarl any insults. He also didn't kick any more water, despite passing some truly impressive puddles, and Roy suspected annoying soldiers had been at _least_ half the reason for that rather childish display.

"At least tell me the mission was successful," Roy requested, mostly to fill the unfamiliar silence that had fallen between them, away from the crowds of soaked soldiers heading for the dorms and cheap apartment buildings.

Edward snorted. "Yeah, fine. Got the info everyone needed and didn't blow up anything _too_ important."

The toothy smile he flashed when Roy glanced over, barely visible through the downpour – was it getting _worse_?! – suggested he'd either destroyed something that Roy, at least, would regret, or he'd finished everything without having to resort to his legendary destructive tendencies.

"On second thought," Roy said, loud enough to carry through the rain without being too obvious that he'd intended such, "maybe I _don't_ want your report."

Edward laughed, loud and bright, and the noise helped warm Roy just a little bit, fighting back against the damp, so he considered it a success.

As his home came into view, Roy shaded his eyes and chanced a glance up toward the wet sky. It really did seem to be coming down harder, and he grimaced a bit, then suggested, "I've an umbrella you could borrow."

Edward laughed at him and turned to walk sideways, arms spread wide. "What the fuck's an umbrella supposed to help me with?"

Well, he had a point, and Roy sighed, hating the idea of sending Edward back out into this mess so he could head home – the blond lived down by the dorms, so it would be at least another ten minutes' walk, for him. "At least come in and dry off a little bit. Maybe it'll lighten up some in ten minutes or so?"

Edward snorted. "Yeah fucking right. You know, unlike _some_ pansy-arsed generals I know, I'm not afraid of a little water."

Roy offered him a tired look. "Tea?"

Ed's steps faltered, then he sighed. "Yeah, fine," he agreed, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'overprotective bastard'.

Well, Roy could live with that title, especially since it meant he had the chance to drag Edward out of the rain for a little bit, get a better chance to check that he'd come back in one piece.

Once inside, Roy ordered, "Shoes off, coat on the coat rack. Stay there and I'll bring a towel."

"Not gonna do much good!" Edward shouted after him as Roy moved toward the ground floor cupboard he kept towels in for emergencies. (Like Elicia deciding to pay Roy a visit, without Gracia's knowledge, because it had snowed overnight and, 'You always make the best snowmen, Uncle Roy!')

Edward was probably right about the towels being mostly useless, but Roy brought the pile over to him, anyway, and warned, "I'm going to change. The kitchen's down the hall, if you wanted to sit. Hang the wet towels over the backs of the chairs, please."

"Yeah, yeah. I got this," Edward replied drily.

And, since Edward was plenty capable of taking care of himself, Roy nodded and turned to head upstairs to his room.

On his way up, he thought he heard what might have been a sneeze, or maybe one of the floorboards creaking oddly because he was dripping all over everything. Shrugging a bit, Roy continued upstairs and quickly stripped out of his wet things – leaving them in the bathtub to deal with later – and changed into warm clothing. He grabbed a couple towels from his bathroom to mop up the puddles on the stairs and the entryway a bit, correctly guessing that Edward wouldn't have worried about the one that grew under his feet while he'd stood there, awaiting towels.

He'd just dropped the last towel into Edward's abandoned puddle, when he heard what was _definitely_ a sneeze from the kitchen and froze for a moment, before quickly making his way into the kitchen.

Edward still looked a little like someone had tried to drown him, but he was looking remarkably less soaked, at least. And his cheeks looked unusually red. Roy was stepping forward, reaching out with one hand toward Edward's forehead, before he'd even realised he was about to.

Edward ducked him, scowling. "What the fuck?" he snapped. "I'm _fi_ –"

And then he sneezed again, looking briefly miserable in the aftermath.

Roy managed to get a hand to his forehead before the blond could duck away again, and frowned at the heat building under Edward's skin. "That feels like a fever, Edward," he commented.

Edward scowled and turned away, toward where he'd already put the kettle on. "Your hands're just cold, ya' bastard," he returned.

But, oh, Roy was hitting himself, a bit, now. The rain had been fairly chilled, and Command was hardly warm, given it wasn't yet cold enough outside for them to excuse the costs of heating the massive building; Edward had been in there for at least twenty minutes, after getting soaked, and then he'd gone _back out_ into the rain, without drying off. And the gods knew Roy'd heard Alphonse complaining more than enough times about how often Edward would try to pretend he wasn't sick when he'd caught a cold.

"You haven't changed a bit," Roy said with a slightly helpless smile.

Edward turned to him, face twisted into a snarl, but his coming rant was interrupted by another sneeze.

Roy caught him by the shoulders and gently pushed him back toward one of the chairs that had been pulled out and a towel draped over the back. "Sit down while I find you something to change into." Because he doubted Edward had any clothing in his suitcase that was clean – plenty familiar with how sparsely he always packed – assuming the suitcase had survived the downpour without leaking, which was unlikely.

"I don't need–!"

"Or I can call your brother and let him know you're sick," Roy added with a cheerful smile.

Edward crossed his arms over his chest and scowled but, notably, didn't argue any more. It had taken almost two years for Edward to convince his younger brother, after his return, that he didn't need to be hovered over all the time, and Alphonse was better served assisting with whatever research project a couple of boys the Elrics were friends with were doing. If Roy rang and even _suggested_ that Edward might not be feeling one hundred percent, Alphonse would be on the first train back to Central and hover until Edward found a way to get him to return to his research.

Victorious, Roy returned to his bedroom and pulled out the oldest (and smallest) things he had that were still wearable, then brought them down for Edward to change into, directing him toward the cramped little ground floor loo that he could change in.

When Edward came back out, scowling, Roy had to turn all his attention to pouring the boiling water into the mugs, because seeing the blond in his old clothing just... It made him feel a bit queer. Pleased and possessive and almost _adoring_ , especially when he noticed how Edward's shorter arms meant his fingertips barely peeked out past the cuffs of Roy's old jumper.

"I hate you," Edward muttered as he reached around Roy and took one of the two mugs.

Roy didn't bother holding back a snort, because he very much doubted that. Perhaps, once, a long time ago, that was true. Before they'd parted ways in understanding, both gone to face their greatest enemies, neither expecting to come back alive. But they had – though it had taken Edward some years – and even though Edward had all the reasons to give his goodbyes for good, he'd settled back in at Roy's side, fighting _with_ him, instead of only caring about his own goals.

Still, as Edward drew away with his mug, Roy offered, "I'll light a fire in the living room."

Edward let out a disgusted noise and muttered what sounded suspiciously like, "I don't need to be _coddled_ ," into his mug.

Roy shook his head, amused more than anything else, and collected his own mug before ushering Edward down the hall into the living room.

He wasn't fond of using his alchemy outside of battle – not least because his aim wasn't what it used to be, which made the simplest things, like lighting candles, hazardous – so he settled in to light the fireplace manually. Surprisingly – or not, considering Edward has been unusually kind in regards to Roy's lost eye, beyond a comment about needing a tricorn hat to match his eyepatch when he'd first got back, whatever that meant – Edward said nothing about the wait, but he _did_ sneeze a couple times, each event followed by a muttered curse.

After the second sneeze, though, Roy gave up on the manual execution and lit a new match, then touched the array carved into the inside of the chimney, and lit the waiting logs that way.

"Lazy," Edward called, as though he wouldn't have gone for alchemy from the start. (As if _Roy_ wouldn't have done so, himself, before the loss of his eye.)

Roy didn't bother with a response, instead getting up and shaking out one of the sofa blankets his aunt's ladies occasionally gifted him with over Edward, ignoring the disgruntled noises the blond made. But Edward didn't fight him about it, which suggested he welcomed the warmth.

With Edward so ensconced, Roy retreated back to the kitchen with his tea, debating what to do next: He knew Edward didn't live with anyone, nor did he have any pets – despite Alphonse's insistence that his brother needed a cat, for whatever reason – so it wouldn't be a problem for him to remain with Roy for the night, like it would have been for Riza or Havoc. (Or, when he was alive, Maes.) Edward was nearly as much a bottomless pit as Breda, but Roy had observed, over the years – often assisted by Alphonse's loud concern – that when Edward was battling illness or pain, his appetite nearly vanished.

Which didn't, Aunt Chris would have been quick to remind him, mean the young fool didn't _need_ food. Something light, like that soup that always seemed to have multiplied after Aunt Chris or one of her ladies paid a visit. (They thought they were sneaky, but Roy had caught on to the ploy long ago; if it hadn't meant a steady supply of free, easy-to-prepare food, he might have actually tried to stop them.)

It didn't take long to make the soup, and he spooned out a reasonable portion into a bowl and carefully brought it to the living room.

Edward had curled up into a tight ball on one end of the couch, real hand fisted in the edge of the blanket just under his chin, as though he feared it being taken away. His hair was loose around his face, fluttering from gentle breaths, and mostly hiding closed eyes.

It wasn't _quite_ the most vulnerable position that Roy had ever seen Edward in, but it was the first time he'd seen the blond looking at all vulnerable since his return, and he froze for a moment, letting himself drink in the sight, because he knew it was unlikely he'd ever see such again; if there was one thing that Edward Elric had always hated, it was being seen as weak.

Roy sighed eventually, though, because as much as Edward needed his sleep – it can't have been an easy trip back, no matter how often Edward insisted trains were plenty comfortable, and colds needed rest for the body to recover – he also needed food. So he set the bowl down, then knelt down next to Edward and gently shook his hip, aware that shaking the automail shoulder was unlikely to do him much good. "Edward," he murmured.

Gold eyes fluttered open for a moment, before falling closed again, the blanket being pulled up and over his head, while Ed mumbled something that could have been, "G'way, sleeping."

Shaking his head, Roy tugged the blanket off Edward's head, offering his best apologetic smile when gold eyes opened again to glare at him. "You need food, then you can sleep as much as you want," he promised.

"No 'ungry," Edward returned, before tugging at the blanket Roy still had a hold of. "Leggo!"

"I know you're not hungry," Roy tried, keeping his voice gentle, soothing, "but I'm not leaving until you've had some soup, anyway."

Ed stopped fighting with him for a moment, clearly giving that some thought, before sighing and nodding.

When Roy supplied the soup, Edward obediently drank a little over half of it, before pushing the bowl away and turning his head.

"Okay," Roy allowed, setting the bowl out of the way, and helping Edward get settled back under the blanket, mostly so he had a reason to brush Edward's forehead with one hand. The blond was still too warm, and Roy sighed a bit as he stood, collecting the soup bowl and Edward's empty tea mug.

He'd only just reached the kitchen table, when Edward called, "Al? Alphonse!" a hint of panic in his voice.

Roy hurriedly set the dishes down on the table, then returned to the couch, brushing Edward's bangs away from wide gold eyes as he reached him, and noting – with some concern – the hazy distance to the young man's gaze. "Edward," he offered soothingly. "You're at my house right now, do you remember? Alphonse is studying with the Tringham brothers."

Edward blinked, frowned slightly, then focussed on Roy's face with that same vaguely terrifying intensity that he usually reserved for alchemy books and full plates of food. "Roy?" he guessed.

Roy twitched, startled by hearing his given name from Edward, but managed a nod and an evenly voiced, "Yes. You've caught a cold, because of the rain."

"Rain," Edward repeated, tone gone musing, and his attention left Roy's face. "It's pouring."

"It still is," Roy agreed.

Edward twisted his head to look toward the front-facing windows, outside which the rain continued to fall from the sky, though it looked and sounded like it had eased up a bit, at least. "Huh," he decided, before wiggling a little deeper down into the blanket he was under. And then, by all appearances, returned to sleep.

Shaking his head at the mystery that was his youngest subordinate, Roy got up and left to have some soup himself, then cleaned up the kitchen and made sure Edward's clothing had been hung up, even going so far as to check the stuff in his suitcase – Edward could kill him later; he'd been right about it all being both dirty and damp – and setting that out to dry. (Edward would have to manage the washing, himself, but at least he wouldn't have any mould to combat.)

Only once all the busy work he could do was done, did Roy return to check on Edward. The blond's forehead was still over-hot, so he found a flannel and filled a bowl with cold water, then brought it into the living room to drape over Edward's forehead, hopefully help him cool off.

He sighed a bit as he sat back in the nearest chair; he did have a mission that could use Edward's particular brand of competence, but he'd already been planning to hand it off to another soldier, since he hadn't been expecting Edward back yet, and now he'd gone and caught sick... Better to find some easy work to set the blond, like looking something up in the library, so he was forced to give his body the chance to recuperate. And Edward wouldn't make a fuss about the busy work, so long as Roy promised he wouldn't call Alphonse in exchange.

It would have to be something engaging, though, or Edward might just wander off and get himself into a fight. And the last thing _any_ of them needed, was for Edward to damage any property in Central; the military only tolerated him because he got positive results, despite his destructive streak, and Roy didn't really want to know how much he'd have to fight to keep the blond if he caused trouble so close to home, while avoiding working on an assignment.

Well, Edward had been back in the military for a little over a year now, and this wouldn't be his first period of downtime in Central; it should work out fine. He hoped.

(Maes had been right, that time he insisted Roy was a ridiculous worrywart about the Elrics; Edward was a grown man, plenty capable of handling himself in public. Even if most of his interactions with Roy involved threats and insults.)

Edward shifted, then let out a discontent noise as the flannel slipped down over his eyes.

Roy bit back a snort and leant forward to take the flannel – it had got warm, anyway, between Edward's skin and the fire still burning in the hearth – and found gold eyes blinking up at him.

"Roy?" Edward murmured, looking sleepily confused. "You're here?"

"Of course," Roy agreed, shaking his head; had Edward forgotten where he was?

Edward watched him as Roy re-wet the flannel, wrung it out just enough that it wouldn't drip everywhere, then returned it to Edward's forehead. Then, before Roy could pull away, Edward's automail hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, tight enough to keep him there, but not so much that it would hurt him. "Don't leave me again," Edward said – _pleaded_ , almost – then closed his eyes and was back asleep again.

Roy stared at him for a moment, thrown. What had he meant by that? Did he expect Roy to sleep in the chair he'd been sitting in?

He tried loosening Edward's grip, but the automail wouldn't be moved. Somehow, Roy wasn't really surprised.

"Even when I'm off the clock, you're making my life difficult," Roy complained, but the words came out fond, and he sighed at himself and struggled to shift the heavy armchair so he could get comfortable while Edward kept a tight grip on his hand. His back wasn't going to thank either of them in the morning, but it was clear he wasn't going to escape this grip without waking Edward back up, and he couldn't bring himself to do so.

-0-

He woke to someone shaking his shoulder and an irritated voice demanding, "Oiy, you bastard, why the fuck'm I holding your hand?"

Roy shifted, then groaned as his back reminded him he was far too old and damaged to be sleeping in a chair. Wincing a bit as he reached up to rub sleep crud from his eyes, Roy offered, "You said you didn't want me leaving again."

When he opened his eyes, he found Edward staring at him, his face turned a brilliant shade of red, almost like a full-on sunburn. "I-I d-did not!" Edward spluttered.

Roy grimaced pre-emptively, then shoved himself out of his chair, unable to quite bite back a groan as all his aches and pains spoke up at once. "You had a fever, Fullmetal," he pointed out drily. "Everyone says weird things when that happens."

"What else did I say?" Edward demanded.

Roy glanced over at him, couldn't quite read the expression the blond wore. "You called out for Alphonse," he offered carefully, "and called me 'Roy'."

Edward flinched a bit at the last and quickly asked, "That's it?"

"That's all," Roy agreed, considering the blond curiously. Why the flinch? Why the blush because he'd asked Roy to stay? "What are you afraid you said?" he couldn't resist asking.

Edward turned wide eyes on him, the flush returning to his cheeks, though not as strong. "What? N-nothing!"

Roy snorted – Edward had always been a terrible liar – but decided to let it go, instead turning away and saying, "I'll go see if your things are dry, so you can head home and get some sleep in your own bed."

" _Shit_ ," Edward hissed, and Roy couldn't stop from looking back at him, found him wearing a bit of a stricken expression. "I never wrote my report."

Roy caught the laughter before it could escape him, but Edward's expression when he said, "I'll give you a day's extension on account of getting sick," told him he hadn't managed to keep his amusement from his voice. "Do you want breakfast?" he offered, before Edward could start with the rant he was no doubt about to let loose.

Edward froze for a moment, before visibly deflating and agreeing, "Please."

Roy raised an eyebrow at the show of politeness, but shrugged it off and left to check Edward's clothing – it was all dry – and make them both some food.

Edward made his way to the kitchen and sat at the table while Roy handled the food and, when Roy brought the plates over to the table, the blond offered a subdued, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Roy replied, frowning a bit at Ed's unusual manner. "Your clothing is dry and set out in the loo on this floor."

"I saw it," Edward agreed with a shrug.

Roy let his frown deepen as he turned his attention to his breakfast; some days, it wasn't worth fighting with Edward.

Edward had about three bites, before dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter and demanding, "Why didn't you just send me home?!"

Roy blinked and gently set his own fork down as he swallowed, before replying, "Because I was worried about you, and I know how you react to being ill."

The blond slouched a bit, but there was still a challenge in his eyes as he scowled at Roy. "There's nothing wrong with hating being sick. And don't fucking compare me to when I was a dumbarse kid, you moron."

Roy coughed, amused. "It's so hard not to, when your manner hasn't changed."

Edward's mouth opened for a moment, then fell closed and he crossed his arms over his chest, scowl deepening. But there was something in his eyes, something almost _hopeless_. "Right," he muttered.

Roy sighed. "Edward," he called, and waited until sad gold eyes had met his, before continuing, "I felt responsible; I should have had you dry off in Command, but I didn't think about it." He shrugged, couldn't quite meet Edward's eyes as he added, "I know what it's like to come home to an empty house when you're not feeling your best; I wouldn't want anyone on my team to suffer that."

Edward's chair screeched against the linoleum, and Roy looked to find him standing up, his skin unusually pale, and his eyes _absolutely_ hurt. "Right," he said flatly. "I'm just another member of your stupid team. How could I have forgotten." Then he turned away.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Roy demanded, confused and irritated. "Did you want a transfer?" Ooh, _that_ hurt to say; the last thing he wanted was to entrust Edward to someone else's command.

Edward flinched and spun, snarling, "A _transfer_? Why the fuck would you think I want to leave you, you idiot?! I lo–" And then he froze, going somehow even paler, mouth hanging open, halfway through the damning word.

Roy didn't need him to finish it, could guess what it was, and he had to swallow twice to get his heart out of his throat, so he could say, in his calmest voice, "I am your superior officer, and you are my subordinate. There are rules–"

"Rules," Edward repeated, a hint of what might have been hysterical laughter in his voice. "When the fuck have _I_ ever given a damn about _rules_? Shit, when have _either_ of us–"

Roy was out of his chair and around the table without realising it. He managed to stop himself once his hand caught in the fabric of his old jumper, but it was too late, he'd already shown his hand, and there was something like victory shining in Edward's eyes as he stepped into Roy's space, leant up onto his toes, and feathered his lips against Roy's.

Roy had always struggled to deny Edward – at first because he couldn't keep from remembering that broken boy he'd found slumped in a wheelchair, and later because he'd grown into an undeniably beautiful man while he'd been away – and he didn't have it in him to attempt even a token fight, that time, just leant in and firmly pressed his lips to Edward's.

Maybe it was just because he'd been denying himself for so many years, but that kiss – so simple a thing, after decades of combating loneliness and nightmares with the company of women – felt every bit as intense as the first one he'd had, as a teen. It was heady, and thoroughly distracting, especially when Edward deepened it, clearly having had some kissing practise of his own at some point when Roy hadn't been paying attention and, _gods_ , why had he been denying them both this for so long, again?

It was difficult to pull away, even if he desperately needed to breathe if he was going to keep standing.

"You–" Edward gasped against his lips "–impossible–" gulp of air "–bastard!"

Roy had no power to stop his lips from turning up with a rather helpless smile. " _I'm_ the impossible one?"

Edward sneezed. Which, by the way he slumped a bit miserably, had probably been unintentional, but Roy thought could have served just fine as a response, from him.

Now that he'd given in and touched – kissed breathless, honestly – Edward once, it was impossible to resist the urge to brush his bangs out of his face. Edward's eyes fluttered and he leant into to touch, expression smoothing out into something a little less miserable, almost _peaceful_. Roy smiled, utterly enchanted to see so unguarded an expression when Edward was conscious. "Perhaps," he murmured, "you should get some more sleep."

The peacefulness disappeared, and Edward's eyes, when they looked up at him, were tired. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I should probably go home."

"You can stay here," Roy was offering before he could think better of it.

"What, on your couch? It's not that comfortable, Mustang," Edward retorted, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes that made Roy not regret offering. Even if he really _should_ send Edward home to recuperate, and give himself some space to sort out what had just happened in his own head, figure out what to do about it.

Well, in for one cenz, in for the whole note: "You're welcome to use the bed."

Edward's eyes widened, a surprised sort of delight lighting his face. "You're sure?" he asked, almost like he couldn't believe Roy would allow him something so simple.

Which, well, he shouldn't, really. He should be offering to call Edward a ride back to his place, or arguing with him about the comfort of his couch. He shouldn't be letting him into his bed; never mind the implications that phrase had, his sheets would end up smelling of Edward, and he'd never be able to convince himself they needed to keep a professional relationship because...

Roy was already forgetting all the reasons this was a terrible idea, too in love with Edward's delight – so rare a sight, when Alphonse wasn't around – to even care.

He'd always had a hard time denying Edward.

"I'm sure," Roy promised, before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

So Edward stayed.

.


End file.
